Sleep to Dream
by thathottrekkiechick
Summary: Arthur/Ariadne awesomeness. Exploring their relationship and their personal lives. PLEASE REVIEW! I WANT TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter I: Reality **

Ariadne gathered up her phone, her ipod, and her papers into her messenger bag and headed towards the elevator. She was six feet away when a strain of music stopped her. She followed it back through the labyrinthine workshop, smiling as she recognized Louis Armstrong's trumpet solos. She rounded a corner and found Arthur, hunched over a tiny tangle of wires with a magnifying glass and a pair tweezers.

"Arthur?" He didn't look up. His tongue was clamped between his teeth, his brow furrowed. Ariadne checked her watch: 12:45. She took a few steps to his desk. "Arthur, its late-very late. You really should sleep." Was he ignoring her, or was he just very interested in that bunch of wires? She looked hard at him. His eyes were deepened by dark shadows, and he had a fixated look about him, as though he had been sitting in that spot since they started work at noon. Ariadne dropped her bag. "Arthur. Helloooooo…" He didn't move. "I hear you Ariadne," he said quietly. "But I need to find the blue wire…" he trailed off.

She sat on the bench next to him, keeping her eyes on his face, silhouetted against the street lights pouring in from the window. He _was_ kind of handsome…actually _very_ handsome. She took a breath and laid her hand over his fingers, gently but firmly. He looked up, but not at her. "Ariadne, please go home." She ignored that. "Do you ever leave?" she asked simply. "Do you…sleep?" She waited for a reply. "Do you _ever _stop working?" She sighed exasperatedly. Then she noticed the way his forearms worked each time his hands moved. The way his biceps shifted under his clean blue button up shirt. Ariadne bit her lip and moved closer on the bench. She laid her hand on his shoulder. "Do you ever….relax?" She trailed her fingers across his collarbone and loosened his tie. "Do you ever just…take the time to stop and notice what's happening around you?" She unbuttoned his collar, letting her nails scrape across his chest. She saw Arthur's jaw and fist clench simultaneously. He took a breath and held it.

She held back a smile, letting her hand fall to undo three more buttons. Arthur finally raised his hard, dark eyes to hers, dropping the wire and the tools. Their knees touched. Ariadne ran her hand up his thigh, feeling his muscles tense. Her stomach fluttered as he bit his lip. She slipped off his tie, pulled him close and softly kissed his neck. He smelled like green tea leaves and French cologne. Arthur pulled back from her and time seemed to stop as he took her face in his big strong hands and kissed her; his mouth was so gentle that Ariadne felt sparks of electrical energy pass through their tongues. His long fingers slithered down her neck and pulled off her shirt. Ariadne's breath caught in her throat, Arthur gripped her waist and devoured her lips, his fingertips grazing up over her stomach and down her hips. He bit her bottom lip, pressing her against his warm, tense body. Ariadne sighed into him, running her hands through his hair, down his chest, ripping open his shirt. She kissed his smooth chest, then looked straight into his eyes, catching her breath.

"So how do you feel now?" she panted, brushing a stray hair off his forehead. Arthur swallowed hard. "Well, I'm a bit distracted right now. Its very unfair, what you're-" he couldn't finish his sentence: Ariadne ran her tongue along the edge of his jaw line slowly and softly, obliterating any ability to speak or think anything except for what was in Arthur's head at that moment. He sighed: "Ariadne…" 

She sank her teeth gently into the back of his neck. "How about now?" she whispered into his ear, sending a burning shiver cascading through his spine. Arthur tried and failed to breathe normally. "Um….uhh…my pants are a little tight," he said distractedly, his face buried in her thick hair, inhaling vanilla and jasmine. Ariadne kissed his neck, his shoulders, his chest, smiling at the way he moaned softly.

"All the better to take them off, then."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II: Dream Catchers**

Ariadne opened her eyes and smiled. Arthur was lying beside her, one arm wrapped around her protectively, the other curled under himself. She touched his chest tentatively.

Ariadne opened her eyes. She was cold. Something freezing was pounding over her, and she couldn't breathe. She blinked and shook her head, trying to clear away the confusion. She opened her eyes again. She was in the shower. She was in the shower, in the workshop…in all of her clothes. She turned her head and saw Dom standing outside the spray, his hand tight around her upper arm. Then she registered Arthur, shivering beside her, his shirt and sweater drenched, supported by Eames-who was grinning like the Chesire Cat. "Soooo," Eames said rather loudly. "What did you kids…dream about? Anything fun?"

Arthur's cheeks flushed, he stared at the ceiling. "Can we get out of the shower now, please? I'm sure we're both awake."

Dom and Eames conceded and Arthur reached for a towel. Ariadne followed, looking from one to the others. "So…wait, what? What was….that?" She caught herself and forced her eyes away from Arthur, not watching his soaked hair falling over his eyes as he dried it. Eames was still smiling. "Well, judging by the _sounds_ you two have been making for the past three hours, I'd say that was-" Arthur made a point to slam his shoulder against Eames as he fled the bathroom. It was Ariadne's turn to blush. She glanced down and found the needle mark on her wrist. "Who…who's dream was that?" she murmured. Dom left, containing a smile. Eames leaned against the doorframe, blocking Ariadne's way. "That _wasn't _yours?"

"No," she answered, frowning. Eames shrugged. "Hm. Must've been his then." He reached out two fingers to brush a wet piece of hair from her chest. "Can't say I blame him." She whacked his fingers away and pushed past him, scowling.

She walked as calmly as she could back to her little niche of the workshop and flopped into her chair, burying her face in her hands. _'What the hell just happened?'_ she thought frantically. _'Was that Arthur's dream? Did he do that on purpose? Was it an experiment? How long has he wanted to….do that? And why did I enjoy it so much?'_ Her internal screaming was interrupted by Eames' voice.

"So it definitely wasn't her then, darling? You should just admit it." Ariadne heard the smirk in his voice. "You want her Arthur, you randy little bastard. You wanna get up _on_ that." WHACK. Arthur had thrown a folder full of papers at Eames as he strolled away, snickering. She closed her eyes, trying to stop the images of the dream from raising her body temperature. Eames' words echoed in her mind. _You want her, Arthur._ She wanted him too…

A thought suddenly occurred to her. Arthur hadn't asked her permission before he put her under. He hadn't even asked her on a freaking date! She smiled slowly as a plan formed in her mind. She would confront him. She would be subtle…but she would _make_ him admit his feelings.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III: Coffee and Sleep**

"Good morning!" Ariadne said brightly, springing through the elevator with her arms full of Starbucks. Cobb and Yusuf accepted their coffee with smiles. Eames took his with an extremely inappropriate look in his eyes. Arthur didn't take his. He was typing furiously when Ariadne set his straight black coffee on his desk. "Thanks," he said hurriedly.

She smiled, standing at his side. "Would you like any sex in your coffee this morning?"

"Yes," he replied, without taking his eyes from his screen. Ariadne walked away laughing softly before he could correct himself.

An hour later they went under; two hours later they felt the kick and Ariadne jolted upright, gasping for breath. _God I hate water kicks…_

The rest of the team were rising, finding their way drowsily to their desks. Arthur was still down. His eyes fluttered open as she sat up to look at him. Their gaze met and Ariadne's stomach dropped. The second they glanced each other's way felt like hours. Then Arthur seemed to come to himself; he blinked, looked down, and walked away. Ariadne pushed her hair back, sighing. _Is it always going to be this awkward? _

Arthur sat at his desk, trying to breathe evenly. He found his die and tossed it onto the surface, watching it roll. _…Three. Okay, reality. Good. No…not good. Bad; reality means that I'll have to ask her…that she might not…_

Arthur inwardly shook himself. _Focus. Focus…._

He stared at his laptop but found his eyes drifting back up to where she was, behind that wall. His mind wandered to the dream again…the sweet warmth of her scent…the gentle way her hair drifted over his chest like leaves over water. Her soft, tiny hands warm on his shoulders…

Arthur was shocked out of his imagination by Eames' fist coming down two inches from his fingers. "Darling, if you're really going to sit there and drool like that, I may as well just take my clothes off now and save you the fantasizing," Eames said quietly, smirking. Arthur resisted the strong urge to punch that smirk off. He collected himself, closing his computer deliberately. "I do not drool, Eames. And don't flatter yourself."

Eames chuckled, sitting carefully on a stack of files atop Arthur's desk. "Delightfully dry your humor is, love." He looked appraisingly down at Arthur, as a jeweler would at a small crystal. "But if not drooling, you were certainly pining. You can't pretend that that little….ahem, _incident_ yesterday was some sort of experiment. I mean, speaking as a professional when it comes to women, that was totally transparent. _My _question is this: what in all of bloody blue perfect hell could you possibly have gained from sharing that little dream with her? Did you really think that she'd understand your desperate bid for attention? If I were you, darling-"

Arthur cut him off firmly. "Eames, after a million hours of practice on your best day, you could never be me. Now please let me work."

Eames stood with another grin. "A million hours, huh? I could do it in two," he said with a shrug, walking away in a perfect imitation of Arthur's arrow-straight posture and gait.

The sun had left the Paris skyline hours ago when Ariadne finally set aside her pencils and sketch pad. As she left she stopped by the windows. "Goodnight, Dom."

He turned to her. "Night. Oh, don't worry about coming in early tomorrow, Arthur's taking care of the logistics after he's finished his research."

Ariadne frowned. "He's still here?" she asked incredulously.

Cobb smiled as he gathered his coat and keys. "He doesn't leave once we hit the second stage of a job. He sleeps here."

Ariadne shook her head as she followed Cobb out into the night. "Workaholic much?"

The next night, as the sky outside the workshop faded to inky black, Ariadne stretched. Something stopped her as she made to turn out her desk lamp. 'He sleeps here.' _Hmmm, _she thought with a small smile. _Perhaps I should go check that he's comfortable. _She stood and tiptoed out into the central workspace, searching as her eyes adjusted to the moonlight. She spotted Arthur, curled up in a sleeping bag on an air mattress beside the support column. She crept closer until she could see the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Her hands clasped together as she recognized a sudden rush of affection for this man. His arms were folded loosely across his stomach, his head was tilted to one side, mouth just slightly open, and his face was devoid of any of the tension that seemed his natural expression. He looked almost like a teenager in that moment. Ariadne knelt to the concrete, quelling the urge to touch him. She simply looked. She noticed his eyes flickering beneath their lids. _He's dreaming…_ She smiled as she realized what a novelty that was. No sedative, no plan of action. Just a simple dream. _But what about, _she contemplated. She wouldn't know…unless she asked. But that was an invasion of privacy. If Arthur wanted to share something with her, he would…_he __had._ She stood silently and backed up to the entrance, unable to tear her eyes away from his still form illuminated in the silver light. _He __did__ want to share that with me. He wanted me to know how he felt…he was just too afraid to tell me? To expose himself to me? To let someone in? _

Ariadne couldn't be sure. But she knew this much now: she couldn't keep up her game with him. She had to let him know…then maybe he would too…


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV: Messages**

_So sorry my dear readers, for the long absence. I hope this chapter will entice you to forgive me. ^_^_

Ariadne grabbed the cold, metal pole as the metro rounded a corner. She yawned, fighting the affects of 1:20 AM. She noted with interest the way every other passenger leaned against the push of gravity. Every passenger – except one. He stood stock still against the back end of the train, one hand gripping the small silver case, the other braced against a seat. She hadn't noticed him when she had entered the train; his gray trench coat had blended perfectly into the interior. Ariadne took in the three-piece, cream-colored suit, the striped gold tie, the two-toned wing tip shoes. The faultless brown hair, the soft, dark eyes, staring directly into hers, as though trying to convey something without raising his voice above the roar of the underground. The metro turned another corner, the lights flickered, and still, Arthur fixed her with his enigmatic gaze. Ariadne blinked and glanced around. Where was she? The RATP, in Paris. Why was she here? …. _How_ did she get here? She bit her lip, and with another glimpse at her fellow travelers, she pulled the bronze bishop from her pocket. She flattened her palm and laid it in the center, then nudged it with her finger. It resisted the pressure, remaining motionless and upright.

Ariadne's stomach seemed to drop a few inches. She looked up bemusedly to find a tiny smirk twisting the corner of Arthur's mouth. His eyes twinkled, even in the dim, fluorescent light, and he winked. Then the train jolted to an abrupt stop, she crashed into the pole as the floor came rushing up to meet her, and she jerked awake.

Ariadne sat up slowly and rubbed her hands over her face. Dim yellowish light was filtering in through the curtains drawn across the window beside her bed. She glanced instinctively down at her wrist, but found no needle or a mark of one. She drew her knees up to her chest and sat still. _What the hell…_

Arthur had informed her during their first job that she would continue to dream for a few more years. But _not_ that she would dream…about him. For one wild moment, Ariadne wondered if it was possible to invade someone's dreams without a PASIV machine…

_But that's ridiculous_, she scolded herself. _…Isn't it?_ She'd have to ask Cobb about that…

Ariadne rubbed her eyes hard and slid her legs from under the covers, pulling on the soft, blue cotton robe hanging from her bedpost. She wandered into the kitchen and sat down at the table. It had been five days since Arthur's dream. Since then, he had kept his head buried in the PASIV, excepting the occasional "hello" or fleeting smile of acknowledgement. Several times, she had attempted to catch his attention with a comment or a question. Nothing worked. Ariadne was getting so sick of this stagnant feeling; everything from that moment in the middle of the Fischer case was stuck in a….in a web of…

Ariadne sat up, frowning. Her kitchen window looked out at the rain, the street and shops two floors below. And someone was obscuring that view. She stood and leaned closer to the glass. **Arthur **was standing at the edge of the adjacent sidewalk, hands in the pockets of his brown overcoat, staring straight up at her. Ariadne blinked a few times, then pushed the totem on the counter. It clattered over. She glanced back down to the street. He was smiling now, that little smirk she had always been fond of. Even from a distance, she saw his lips move. "Ariadne."


End file.
